


andante, andante

by randomtuna13 (belindarimbi13)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Based on an ABBA Song, Crowley is Taking It Slow (Good Omens), Crowley is Whipped (Good Omens), Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23819272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belindarimbi13/pseuds/randomtuna13
Summary: Crowley is taking it slow, he really is. He tries his best to. But Aziraphale has other ideas.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	andante, andante

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartoffangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartoffangirl/gifts).



> **Disclaimer & Note:**
> 
>   * Good Omens is a novel by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gailman, adapted into a TV series by the BBC and Amazon Prime and directed by Douglas MacKinnon.
> 
> 

>   * The author does not take any material profit by writing this fanfiction.
> 
> 


Once, he was told that he was going too fast. So, he takes the precautions. He is taking it slow. As slow as possible. Snails could look at him, and they would be glad they aren't born _that_ slow, but dammit, **Crowley is trying**. If Aziraphale needs more times, then Crowley will give all the times in the world for his angel.

If it needs to be slow then it will start slow. Very slow.

From shy glances at each other, to accidental hands brushing. From the lame "shall we feed the ducks?" to lame "shall we organize the books in your shelf?"—it's so ridiculously slow, but Crowley swears it feels faster when an immortal like him suddenly experience what human call, frantic heart beating. Nobody measures it, but nobody counts it either. The clock is ticking, but the thrills of being able to be allowed to be so close to his angel, in much intimate manner, overwhelms his senses.

And now, after a casual dinner at The Ritz, Aziraphale has the audacity to invite him over. The seraphim is brave enough to serve wine and put on some music.

And worse?

He offers Crowley, the demon who has been trying his damnest, hardest, to take it slow to do the most ironic thing in the world.

_Slow dancing_.

God is laughing and he hates Her.

"Are you okay, my dear?" Aziraphale has the audacity to ask, as if Crowley is 'okay', just okay— _only okay_ —while placing his soft hand on Crowley's waist, bringing himself closer.

As demon, it upsets him that he has no idea how warm angels are.

Is Crowley okay?

He is totally not okay.

"Sure, I'm okay, angel, why'd you ask?"

Aziraphale also has the audacity to make a very convincing concerned expression with his beautiful face. That bastard. Crowley is taking it slow. _I'm taking it slow_ , he reminds himself over and over, but Aziraphale is testing him.

"You look really flushed," he observes. "Is it because I choose the seafood platter? You do mention, you dislike scallops."

Crowley didn't dislike scallops. He despises them. But having Aziraphale fed him, excitedly, had rebooted his brain and he found no exit to retaliate. He gave in to thirty centimetres and three spoons of scallops.

"Oh, no, I just—" Is it hot here or...? "—the atmosphere."

Aziraphale hums, understandingly. "It is, yes. I have wanted to take you to floor for dancing. I do save some records for this occasion."

He— _WHAT NOW?_

"Wondering, when is the perfect time to do it," Aziraphale chuckles. "Then, I think to myself, Crowley won't overthink like this, he will just do it. So, here we are."

Crowley clearly doesn't overthink. He is the man of action. If he does anything in perfectly timed manner, it's just... it's practical that way. Of course spontaneous is fun, sometimes it can be very addictive, but knowing how many times it takes to crack up a joke and make his angel laugh is really comforting. It literally takes averagely 78.6 seconds.

And yet, Aziraphale is jumping on spontaneous ride, now. Even if Crowley is distressing over 'is it too fast??????', it would be rude to refuse.

Right?

"Shall we?"

So Crowley can do nothing but follow the angel's lead.

Which surprisingly ~~unsurprisingly~~ , not as smooth as it may have been intended.

And yes.

Aziraphale steps on his toe again.

But, Crowley can't stop the smile that threatened to surface. Not if Aziraphale is comfortable with his fumbling dancing, and he looks so happy doing it.

Crowley created supernova, watching the stars exploding, witnessing a triplet of suns in some galaxies faraway—and yet, Aziraphale smiles the brightest of all.

Then comes the forehead knocking.

For a brief second, Crowley thinks he sees an extra eye.

"Oh, Lord, are you okay, Crowley?"

"I—" Crowley rubs his forehead. Their heads are pretty strong. Maybe it has to do with the fact that they're both rebels, who have been banned from Hell and Heaven and their lots combined.

"Are you hurt?"

The situation is so comical, that Crowley can't help but laugh.

"I'm good, are you?"

"I'm okay."

The music is still playing. But the only thing that dances in the room is the elephant. And both are too petrified to acknowledge it.

And Crowley is pretty cautious about overstepping.

But Aziraphale exhales and he leans in. And like a key that finds its lock, Crowley automatically goes to embrace him. Maybe—

"I'm sorry!"

— **oh**.

"Too fast?"

The words taste bitter on his lips. Crowley would lie to himself if he didn't practice saying it in front of mirror in his flat. Or yelling it out of frustration, among his plants. He is taking it slow. But something, _just sometimes_ , he is tired. Six thousands years and counting. And counting. And counting. On and on and on. He hates maths infinitely.

But instead of back stepping, and putting more spaces, and avoiding each other eyes—Aziraphale sighs.

"No."

Crowley wants to say something, but he can't seem to connect the wires in his brain.

"It's the perfect pace."

Crowley blinks.

"Is it?"

Aziraphale palms the demon's cheek.

"It is."

And the next thing he knows, he is laying on the floor. Staring right at Aziraphale with his, again, convincing concerned face.

"Are you okay?"

He can feel his heart beating beyond normal. It is way faster than the usual human heart rate.

But he is demon.

And he is going to be okay.

Like he says to Aziraphale right after he pulls him up. 

Right after they whisper, 'okay' on his each other ear, completely drowning in the same slow dancing music.

And there is nothing too fast anymore. Not for him. Not for his angel.

Once, Aziraphale said to Crowley that the demon was going too fast. So, the said demon took the precautions. He was taking it slow. As slow as possible.

Snails could look at him, and they would be glad they aren't born _that_ slow, but Aziraphale always knows, Crowley was trying. Aziraphale used to need more times, and Crowley would have given all the times in the world for his angel.

If it needed to be slow then it would start slow. And it did.

But, Crowley has given Aziraphale enough times to catch up and it's time for them to walk in the same rhythm, together in harmony.

  
  


  
  


• **fin •**

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> > Atsui shows me [this wonderful animation](https://twitter.com/gemennair_art/status/1253367781753360390?s=19) by **gemennair_art** in our chat and instead of squeeing & aaaaaaahhhhh-ing, I accidentally wrote a whole fic about it. Dammit.
>> 
>> The title is sort of inspired by ABBA song with the same title which also being used in [this animation video](https://youtu.be/amKoEiXZkP4) by **shork**
> 
> Thank you for reading, I do hope this little fic makes you happy 🌻


End file.
